Excuse Me Professor
by mushi6618
Summary: Welcome to a weird alternate universe where Crane is teaching his usual Psychology courses, just as unstable but manages to hold it together without killing to many people by the time he ends up becoming Becky Albright's Professor. It's short, sweet, and kinda dark at one point. Rating for adult situations and themes.
1. Unhappy People

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, DC comics, or WB. This is a weird alternate universe where Crane didn't lose-it (He actually not that nuts in this fic.) teaching his college class and ends up being Becky's Psychology Professor.

…

_Friday, April 9, 1998_

…

For Jonathan Crane, it was a normal morning; the sun came up and barely visible through the thick Gotham fog. He slowly drove the fifteen miles to work in thirty minutes, double his usual time. The man swiped his pass and maneuvered his beat up old Ford in between Arkham's gate.

Early, regardless of his slow pace.

He wasn't paid hourly however, he liked to put in the extra effort that all of his patients seemed to require. Walking past the security officers he patiently waited as they performed the standard searches. Finally, he made it to the door that read:

_Dr. Jonathan Crane  
Head Psychiatric Ward_

Pulling out his keys, he smiled.

It had taken a long time to get to this point in life. To think he'd actually turned down the Head Director's job; Crane's smile began to disappear. His key unlocked the door and he turned the knob. The main reason for declining the position was that he wanted to expand his career over at the University but the real reason was much more personal.

Linda Fritawa.

It had been a while since he'd broken up with the power hungry bitch. Jon shuttered remembering when she told him how she would use him to climb the corporate latter. He actually thought she loved him. Instead it was Armadas Arkham, son of the original founder, who received the job.

Crane opened the door and turned on the light. Jonathan's brief case hit the floor as his stomach churned at the sight of his boss &amp; ex sprawled over his desk. They were naked and still in the missionary position. Slowly, Crane turned the light back off, picked up his brief case, and backed out the door.

Picking up speed, he made his way down the hall; Crane pushed himself into the nearest men's room. Entering the first stall he threw up his breakfast of black coffee. Jonathan's face was ashen white, his knuckles turning the same shade as he held the side-handles on the stall.

His boss… and hi-his ex…

Jonathan gave another dry heave. Maybe today he would choose to call out sick. Making his way out of the building Jonathan groggily drove home. With any luck, work at the University tomorrow would take his mind off a few things.

…

_Saturday, April 10, 1998_

…

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Albright?"

"You wished to speak with me?"

Jonathan Crane was a middle-aged man who was entirely too thin, wore a pair of black rimmed bottle glasses, and preferred books over people. He had thinning brown hair that looked more like hay and enlarged light-blue eyes which were currently taking in the young woman's form as he acknowledged her presence.

"Ah yes." He adjusted his glasses. "Rebecca, do you know why you're in my office?"

"Um, it's… Becky, and no Sir, I don't."

Crane noticed the girl tighten her grip on the cane she held. Nervous, he thought. An entirely uninteresting emotion, he liked it better when his students feared his meetings.

"Becky, well, it seems while you take pride in the work my class offers, you disregard showing up on time."

"But Professor-"

"I do not wish to hear excuses Miss Albright, and as for the future, if you don't start making your way into my class at the appropriate time I will be forced to remove you from my roster. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor Crane."

Crane pushed his glasses up his nose once again as he watched her get up and leave his office. Jonathan leaned back in his chair. To be honest he didn't have time to worry about some student who was late to his class every other day. Becky Albright was a delightful student otherwise, always paying attention and participating in the classroom. The girl was young, just starting out in life, and near the end of her law education. He could have cut her some slack, but he wasn't like the other teachers at the University, and wondered momentarily what she needed the cane for.

"What a bother." Shaking off his train of thought he looked up at the clock. "Ah, finally…"

Jonathan gathered the papers on his desk and deposited them in his briefcase. It was time for him to go home. Maneuvering around the obstacles in the classroom he made his way towards the door. Crane stopped to notice the cane that was propped up against the chair in front of his desk. Pressing a finger to his temple, he wondered if the girl wasn't half way across campus by now.

"_Grrreat..._"

…

Sunday, April 11, 1998

…

Crane was frustrated. He looked over at the cane that was propped up against the seat of his car. For someone who needed a cane to walk, Rebecca Albright managed to walk fast enough without it. Unfortunately, a forgotten cane wasn't the only thing making him irritable. The thought of having to go into work the next day at the Asylum weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Jonathan had no idea how to face his boss or Linda without strangling either of them. The thought had him driving a bit faster than he should have. So, in no amount of time, Crane arrived early at the main building of the campus for his Sunday class.

Grabbing the cane and his brief case Jonathan started walking the usual trek, a shortcut that went passed the campus gym. His gate was long, quirky, and gangly. Only on those few evening, while practicing his martial arts, were any of his usual movements graceful. Adjusting his glasses Jon began to pull out his keys for his morning class.

Then he heard a woman scream.

Instantly, he knew it was the sound of fear. Fear happened to be his psychology major and overall study/obsession in life. The sound of pure terror tempted him to find the source. Following the beautiful vocal call Jonathan traveled towards the gymnasiums locker-room.

The woman's locker-room to be specific.

Insecure on whether to enter or not Crane hesitated. However, the second much more painful scream made up his mind. Entering the bathroom, he walked in on a very disturbing sight, one that brought him back to his own childhood. On the floor lay one of his students, Rebecca Albright, surrounded by three other girls who were using their cigarettes to burn her thighs. He watched the girls repeat the process, witnessing their victim emit a third scream, and Crane had seen enough.

"_Excuse_ me?" He said in a tight voice, sure to send jolts of fear down their spines.

The three girls, all of which appeared to belong to the infamous Alpha Fraternity, scrambled to the back door located in the bathroom. Crane didn't follow; he'd seen their faces and would be able to recognize them. Jonathan promptly rushed to his wounded student's side.

"Miss Albright?"

Becky managed to hold her conscious long enough to look up at him, then fainted in his arms. Unused to being somewhat of a hero, he simple sat holding the young woman to his chest. Studying Rebecca's face he noticed that her eyelashes were long, the even distribution of freckles, and the soft pout of her lips. His body seemed to simultaneously harden &amp; soften as he drank in her appearance.

"Now what?"

…

_Sunday, April 11, 1998_

…

Crane tried to sleep in a chair out in the waiting room. After a long five minutes clutching an unconscious woman in a Ladies restroom, he ended up canceling all of his Sunday classes in order to take Miss Albright to the hospital. It was something he _didn't_ have to do, mind you.

As it turned out his late-student had been late for a _reason_. The three girls, Jess, Tonia, and Sidney of the Alpha Fraternity were the cause of her troubles. Of course, that had been just the tip of the iceberg.

Rebecca Albright was going to college on a sports scholarship. This he'd found out when going through her purse, purely he told himself, to find her medical information. Rebecca was a bright girl, but she was secretly cheating the system.

Jonathan smiled.

He'd seen the potential she had to offer and admired it. The girl was young; she had beautiful messy auburn hair and a set of hazel eyes. Her face was dusted with tiny freckles, her body almost as slim, and possibly as malnourished, as his was.

In the few moments, just before he was about to call an ambulance, Crane saw the opportunity. What if he found a way to curve his future heartache? What if… he blackmailed his student into dating him?

"Professor? Miss Albright wishes to talk to you."

Crane looked up at the nurse with a devious smile on his face and proceeded to get up and follow her towards his student's room. Rebecca sat propped up on the bed facing a blank TV. '_This whole situation must be a bit embarrassing for her._' Jonathan thought.

"Miss Albright?"

"Becky, please, Professor Crane."

"If you _insist_, Ms. Becky. And I prefer Jonathan, when **not** in class..." He smiled at her watching as she returned the favor. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh, better?" Her cheeks reddened. "Prof-oh, um, Jonathan, I just-"

"Becky?" Her eyes locked with his. "I want to propose an offer to you…"

…

_Sunday, April 11, 1998_

…

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"It's a simple proposition, Rebecca." Becky gave Crane a hard look.

"There is no way in hell that I'll b-be your _girlfriend_! I'm your student for crying out loud."

Crane sat up in the chair in front of her. The door was still closed, locked. He pushed his glasses up. "You don't seem to understand what I'm offering, Miss Albright. I won't tell the Dean you're cheating him out a soccer player, you're future offenses shall be curved, and all you have to do is _pretend_ you're dating me." He pushed his glasses up once again. "It's not like I'm asking you to have sex with me."

Becky's face turned red as she turned away from her professor. She was truly starting to hate taking her brothers advice and cheat with her scholarship. She turned his proposition over in her mind; his offer wasn't unreasonable.

"What happens if we get caught?"

"Trust me, we won't get caught."

"How do you know that?"

Crane laughed and took his glasses off. Standing up he came to the edge of her bed and sat down. Placing his glasses in his pocket he placed both hands on hers. Becky flinched and looked up at him.

"I've got this all planned out, _my sweet_."

He stared at her. His blue eyes seemed to cut into her, daring her to test him, making her for a moment… fear him. When did her professor become so creepy?

"I-if I agree you won't suspend me for being late?"

"Everything will be annulled and any future lateness shall be overlooked, my brave girl."

Cranes hands tightened on hers and Becky bit her lip. If they got caught it would be the end of her law degree. On the other hand, she'd never have to worry about being late, and the girls from the fraternity wouldn't be bothering her anytime soon. Plus, she thought with a smile, she could always turn this blackmail thing on him…

"You've got a deal Professor Crane."


	2. Awkward Meetings

…

_Monday, April 12, 1998_

…

"Linda!"

Jonathan's ex-girlfriend of three years looked up from her papers. She currently sported the 'oh-no' look as he walked towards her. Of course, she didn't know what he was about to tell her.

"You won't believe it!"

"Oh, and what's that Doctor? Did you find out another way in your fear therapies will heal the criminally insane?" Linda snarled.

"Working on it, but really, guess!" He gave her no time to respond. "I have a new _friend_, and I'm bringing her over later to show her the Asylum!"

Without giving her a chance to react, Jon quickly moved to his office, entered and shut the door on his secretary. Fear made his heart pound. By chance, she's out there right now worried that he'd moved on from her conceded entity. Jonathan wanted to cackle with glee!

Yes, he was risking the future of his career only to make his ex-girlfriend regret leaving him, but he needed a change of pace. Maybe it was the fact that his life had become so boring that he'd sunk to blackmailing a student into pretending they were having a steamy love affair. Walking over to his mirror Jonathan straightened his tie. Tonight would be entertaining for sure. Crane picked up his comb and brushed back his thinning hair and frowned.

He was getting old.

So what?

He was in his late thirties, there was still plenty of time to find a wife and settle down. Wasn't there? Crane looked at himself once more in the mirror. Did he actually think "settling down" would be his destined goal in life? Looking away from the mirror Jon thought of his partner in all of this: Rebecca Albright. He blushed. Now that she was "involved" with him, and though he said it wasn't going to get sexual, Jon couldn't help but think about her soft body.

"Snap out of it, Jon, she's your student." Ha! As if saying that helped.

How unprofessional of him… now he had naughty pictures of Miss Albright in a short school uniform bent over his desk flashing through his mind. '_I'm late for class again, Professor Crane… aren't you going to punish me?_' Jonathan quaked at the thought. It was a known fact that a good portion of Gotham University's staff took "bribes" from its students. So then, why shouldn't he join a part of that percentage?

Jon shook his head. It was simple; he was only doing this to get back at Linda. Becky was just a tool to prove that he'd gotten over their breakup and they'd agreed to "date" until the end of the semester. Unfortunately, in the back of Crane's mind he didn't know what he'd do if his student did decide to take things to the next level.

"What a mess I've made!"

…

_Monday, April 12, 1998_

…

"Hi, um, is Pro-Mr. Crane here?"

The blond haired secretary looked up from her typing. The woman's fiery red eyes glared at Becky. Already nervous with the thoughts of 'wrong-doings' she tried to look any place other than the woman at the front desk. Rebecca's attention brought back to the platinum blonde when she coughed sharply.

"Oh, you must be Crane's new _friend_."

Becky's cheeks grew red from embarrassment. Looking down at the woman's blouse, she read her name tag. So this was the ex-girlfriend Crane was talking about?

"Oh, you're Linda?" The woman in question began to stand with a dark look on her face. "I've heard such _wonderful_ things about you."

"Oh… really?" Linda stood straight and fixed her hair.

"Yes, though Jonathan doesn't talk that much about you, he mostly just talks about work. He must be really busy here at the Asylum?" She fanned her hand at the woman. "You wouldn't happen to know where he is, now would you?"

Red faced, Linda picked up her pager and called for Dr. Crane to come to the visitation room. After a few tense moments, the double doors leading to the first level opened revealing the man of the hour. Instead of his normal gate, Crane sauntered into the visiting room.

"Becky, my love! You came!" Jonathan walked over to her and grabbed her by the waist pulling Becky into his arms. She blushed as he placed a polite kiss on the side of her cheek. Unaware that both their hearts were pounding a mile a minute.

"Well, ready for that tour?"

"Um, y-yes."

Crane's arm dropped down to Becky's waist; his hand sat comfortable on her hip. At this point Linda had all she could take. Walking up to her ex, Linda took him by the hand.

"My I speak to you?" She said in a tight voice.

"If it doesn't concern my patients…" Jonathan shook her hand off of his. "…then _**no**_."

Jonathan walked passed his stunned secretary as he pulled Becky forward. Once past the double doors he leaned down and whispered a word of praise into her ear. She blushed again as Jon proceeded with the promised tour.

…

_Monday, May 23, 1998_

…

"Right, so who can tell me what happens when a man with melophobia tries to ride in an elevator?" He rapidly wrote 'What is melophobia?' on the large blackboard. "Any theories?"

Crane scanned the classroom making it appoint to include the "fear of music" into his lecture. Several of his students were currently wearing headphones, obviously not paying any attention. '_Nothing short of a gunshot would get them to concentrate…_' He thought darkly.

About to turn back to the blackboard, his eyes landed on a particular student who'd been aware the entire class, attentive in her note-taking, watching her scribble everything he wrote or spoke during his lecture. At first he'd been surprised to find that she did indeed copy everything he said or wrote, no wonder she did so well on his tests. Feeling a slice of his frustration with the rest of the class edge off he began to turn back to the blackboard when Rebecca, Becky as she liked to be called, decided to uncross her legs.

His eyes widened slightly, mouth forming a small 'o' as he was given a free peak at her undergarments. '_Funny…_' He thought. '_…she must like the color orange._' His face began to heat up.

Quickly Jonathan turned back to the board, ignoring the meager answers the less informed students decided to give. Ready to erase the question, wishing it was just as easy to wipe away pleasant memories, he spotted Becky raise her hand out of the corner of his eye. Slowly he turned around. He shot a quick glance at her legs; thankful to see she'd crossed them once more.

"Yes, Miss Albright?"

"Melophobia is the fear of music. Being confined in a small space, such as an elevator, wouldn't have much effect on the subject because he isn't claustrophobic. On the other hand, he would probably experience a panic attack or a small seizure since the elevator music would trigger an episode."

"As usual you're right, Miss Albright, well done." He gave her a soft smile, forgetting for a moment where he was. Turning to look at the rest of the class his smile turned. Voice rose sinisterly, he spoke: "Now who hear fears the **loss** of their music?" The class perked up, and he watched as his favorite student tried not to laugh.

A small hollow crater began to grow in his heart.

…

_Friday, May 27, 1998_

…

"Shit."

Glancing up from his desk Jonathan watched as Becky shook her hair off outside the open door of his classroom. From his position he could tell that she'd been soaked through. Grabbing his briefcase and the small umbrella he'd remembered to bring he shut off the lights and locked the door.

"Miss Albright." He watched her carefully.

Her eyes were averted, face flushed from either exertion or the cool water that pelted the building. Facing forward, he watched the rain pour down into the courtyard. They stood there for a good five minutes before he could see her visible start to shake. Placing his briefcase down on the damp ground he took off his jacket and gently placed it on her shoulders without a word.

"Please hold this." He picked up and handed her his briefcase. Unraveling the umbrella Jonathan popped it open and glanced back at his current fictitious girlfriend. "Ready to go?"

"I thought you'd never ask." She said sarcastically, belying the fact as she hugged his jacket closer.

"I hope you don't mind then…"

He swiftly slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her up snug against his side. Becky gave a small squeak in protest, her face aflame from blushing. Grinning at her slight discomfort Jon decided to mess with her a bit. Changing his grip, Jonathan lifted Becky off the ground, showing off the fact that even thought he was thin, he was still quite strong.

With Becky poised on his hip, an umbrella directed towards the waves of rain, he made a dash for his 1972 Ford Galaxy. In an instant he had the door open and Rebecca in the passenger seat. '_At least my long legs are good for something…_' Laughing mentally, as Jon shook off the umbrella before joining his girlfriend.

"So where to?" He asked her.

"Uh, I don't know. You didn't assign us anything for once, so I have the night free."

"Hmm, well that's nice. If you don't have anything specific would you care to accompany me to work?"

"You mean the Asylum?" She blanched.

"You don't desire to go there?" He stared at her, thinking that her tour of the facility had gone rather well. "I assure you its safe." He found if fascinating to watch the fear roll off his pupil in waves. This time he was sure she shuttered from the emotion instead of the cold; just in case though he started the car and turned up the heater.

"I've just been reading a lot of bad things about the facility, that's all." She pulled his jacket closer. "The papers say that one of the patients got loose."

"Yes, a man named Jervis Tetch. He prefers to call himself the Mad Hatter." He said matter-of-fact, trying to scare her. "Quite dangerous when he's not spewing Lewis Carol's nonsense."

"What do you mean?"

"He has an obsession with Alice in Wonderland; he tried to kidnap his secretary." Pulling out of the parking spot Crane made his way onto the main road. "The man was a genius. Working for Wayne Industries he created a mind-control headband-"

"Your joking, you mean like, actual mind control? Like science fiction stuff right?" Becky's eyes were wide as she stared at Crane. "That can't be possible."

"It is, my dear girl, and Tetch was the man to tap into the knowledge." He glanced at her, noting the dampness of her clothes. "You're going to catch a cold; I have a spare shirt at my office you can change into."

"Oh, uh, thanks…" She blushed.

"Might I ask where your cane is?" He glanced at her wet legs and the car swerved. Straitening the wheel he kept his eyes firm on the road. "I, uh, didn't se-see it with you…"

"It broke." Like ice, her words gave any further conversation hypothermia.

In an uncomfortable silence Jonathan drove the up the hill towards the Asylum. The rain had lessened considerably by the time they made it into the building. Linda usually worked Fridays but thanks to a death in the family she'd taken three days bereavement. The security had been heightened in the building thanks to the escape of the Mad Hatter, so it had taken them longer to get to Jonathan's office.

"Please, take a seat and I'll go find you something to wear." Grimacing, he backed out of his office; locking the door behind him. "I'll only be a minute…"


	3. Bittersweet Thoughts

…

_Sunday, May 29, 1998_

…

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Jon?"

"Of course, my love." Winking at her. "If anyone asks were just out getting a bite to eat while I help you go over your final paper."

"But I'm not failing, actually, yours is the only class I really seem to be doing efficiently in." Becky sighed, leaning over the fancy table cloth and fine china. "Besides, don't you think this restaurant is a little high-class for a college student and her professor to be going over school-work?"

"We are just keeping up appearances, Becky. Soon the month of June will fly by, you'll be going for your bar examines, and both of our lives will go back to normal." He gave her an indifferent smile, picking up her dissertation on Gnosiophobia, the fear of knowledge.

He could feel her watching him, her eyes piercing through his chest. Fumbling with her paper he tried to distract himself with its near-flawless content. To his coworkers at the college and her comrades in class, they were under the guise of a student/teacher outing. To all those who worked at the asylum, however, they were on their third "official" date. Sweating, he tried to adjust the red bow-tie.

"So what will we be…?" She made a motion between them. "…when this is all over?"

Lowering the paper in his hands he met her gaze. His mouth went dry as he once again took in her unique beauty. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, long bangs pinned back with a bedazzled butterfly clip. He'd found out her favorite color was orange, which had been printed in a blazing monotone of flower-prints covering her short sundress. His stare turned to her left shoulder, trying to memorize distinctive spread of freckles.

"Jonathan? Well, I think we should discuss your involvement in my life." That caught his attention.

"Pardon?" He blinked at her; confused.

"You're not the only one who's been hiding secrets from their employers."

"I'm sorry, if you're referring to our situation at the college-"

"I'm talking about the unauthorized and illegal experiments you've been performing at the asylum." She sat straighter, faced him with as little fear as possible. "And I want out of your little game."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He hissed at her.

"Let me put it to you this way…" She leaned forward to get into his face. "_I'll only be a minute…_"

…

_Saturday, June 4, 1998_

…

Throwing his briefcase into a bookshelf containing various encyclopedias Jonathan announced to his empty apartment that he was home. Slamming the door, he stormed into the kitchen where he kept his liquor cabinet. Grabbing a glass he filled it with three shots of a twenty-year old whiskey and downed it without thinking.

The effects of the alcohol were quick, burning his throat and spreading a hot fire across his chest. It made his eyes water and his breath quicken, but he still poured another two shots into the small high-ball glass. This time he thought twice about outright chugging the liquid. Good whiskey was meant to be sipped; he should have stopped at the store to buy the cheaper stuff.

Anger filled his vision. He wouldn't be in this position had the little scholar figured out his criminal comings and goings throughout the Asylum. '_I suppose that's my fault as well._' He thought, so angry for leaving those stupid files on his computer that he threw the half-full glass across the kitchen. It made a satisfying clatter as it hit the wall.

"I should have never left her alone in my office…" He paced back and forth in the kitchen. "Now what will I do…" Messaging his temples Jonathan tried to think. "Heh, who cares if she knows I've been using patients in my experiments. Or using the lab to make fear toxin."

A light bulb went off in Crane's mind.

"Yes, yes… my fear toxin." He started to laugh hysterically. "I'll show her what fear really is…"

Jumping over furniture Jonathan ran into his bedroom. In a closet, shoved into the furthest corner, stuffed inside a shoebox, was a very old costume. A costume, bound together with rope, hemp, and burlap that he hadn't worn since high school. Unraveling the ties the fabric came undone and the item contained within the poorly sewn together package fell out.

"God, my old pea-shooter, I haven't seen this thing since I scared…"

Crane's mind wouldn't let him speak about the murder and disabling of his high school bullies. Smiling wickedly he tossed the squirt-gun back in the shoebox. Turning around he peeled off his stuffy work clothes and tried on this old costume. It fit for the most part, but he'd grown, his legs longer then the pants and his shoulders which broadened.

Ideas swirled around his head, as he began mending his outfit and fixing the poorly stitched mask. Cackling evilly he planned out his escapade. As he was thinking, a story from his past filtered though his mind. He had always been compared to Ichabod Crane, both in name &amp; appearance, from the Legend of Sleepy Hollow and as Jonathan worked he'd remembered a tiny passage that seemed to fit his mood.

"_**Sugared suppositions…**_"

…

_Wednesday, June 8, 1998_

…

"Tell me brave_ Becky? Tell The Scarecrow; is it in bad form to execute you after you've just graduated?"_

His gloved hands were wrapped around her throat, the fabric dug into the sensitive flesh, rubbing spots raw. He held her a foot off the ground, pushing her body up against a wall in her apartment. Jonathan watched as her hands struggled to both pull his grip off and hang onto his arms to keep from choking.

"She laughed at me my darling, Miss Albright." He pressed his nose against hers, their eyes locking as he whispered Linda's retort. "_Dumped again, Crane? You should've known better than to date one of your students._"

Crane watched as fear filled the girl's eyes, her pupils widening, and breathe coming short. '_Perhaps I shouldn't kill her just yet; after all I've saved the best for last._' Jonathan thought, freeing his hands from her person he watched as she slid and slumped to the floor, taking large breathes. He walked back to a back he'd brought with him, his arms dangling at the side like he was some strange stringy puppet brought to life.

"Since you've taken such a vast interest in my work, I figured I would give you in-depth example of just what was on those files you decided to print…"

Turning back he held up a spray paint can that had a large yellow scull &amp; cross-bones painted on it. Shaking it viciously, Jonathan, or rather the aptly named Scarecrow, aimed the nasal in her direction. Becky, sitting on her knees and one hand holding her swore neck, could only look at her Professor as tears filled her eyes.

"So, any last words my love? Care to explain why you couldn't just settle being my girlfriend for **one** more month? Why you still had the NERVE to come back to my class afterwards?" He leaned back and gave a hearty laugh. "And to be LATE three times, nonetheless!" Like a predator he stood over her, the can of fear toxin suspended right next to her face. Giddy, he felt he didn't even need the toxin; he could practically taste the fear rolling off the poor girl.

"I'm, s-so…" Becky's voice cracked.

"You're _s-sorry_? Is that it?" Jonathan's voice hissed out. "Bullshit." Grabbing her shirt he pulled her up close to his face. "I was a gentleman, I never asked for anything more than what was **respectable** to give."

"Plea-pleas-" She cried, trying to turn her face away from him. "I didn't…"

"You didn't WHAT? Didn't cheat your way into college? Didn't try to blackmail me?" Anger surged through him. "Didn't make me want what I _knew_ I _couldn't_ have?" Breathing hard he openly gaped at his victim.

Rebecca, for all the trouble that he'd caused and all the fear he'd supplied for the evening had somehow keep it together. Tears glided down her cheeks in slow torrents but it wasn't enough. He didn't just want to see her fear him, no, he wanted to know her fear. What really made this strong-willed girl hide and wet her pants at night?

One press of his index finger and he'd find out.

…

_Thursday, June 9, 1998_

…

To say her fear matched his was an understatement of all understatements. They were completely the same. Identical to the point where, while watching her and knowing that he wore a gas mask that would wholly filter out the fear toxin, he felt his own encompassing fear grip his conscious. Without thinking Jonathan grabbed Becky by the shoulders, using one arm to keep her pinned to his chest he ripped the Scarecrow mask from his face. Carefully he took off the gas mask and forced it onto Becky's face.

Closing his eyes Jonathan could feel the toxin before he smelt the air-born hormones. Clinging to Becky he felt the first wave of fear slam into his mind. Within five seconds he found himself, ten years old once more, running for his life down a dank alley way, trying to escape the taunts and garbage being thrown at him. 'If I could just make it over the fence I'll be fine.' Jon's mind told him.

Clutching onto Becky he mentally prepared for the jump that would take him over the fence and to safety. But, like what happened in reality twenty four years ago repeated inside his mind. He slipped. Falling onto his back just as the group of kids caught up. They kicked him, bruising and breaking bones, calling him names, and covering him in trash. Trash, that's what he was, what he will always be.

Garbage.

His mind became quiet; everything had begun to go dark. His light started to fade from the world. Could it have been any more appropriate that he would die buried beneath the filth of humanity? Die, cold and alone in a slum…

As he tried to hug his body, tighten into a cocoon of sorrow, he noticed something. Light, he was hugging a large ball of light. Perchance, by concentrating on this ball of light it began to take another form, and dimmed altogether, so that he was lying on his side next to a ten year old girl with wild, curly, auburn hair. The girls wide hazel eyes peered directly into his as they held each other.

"Are they gone?" Asked ten-year-old Becky.

"I think so…" Ten-year-old Jonathan squinted at her. "Your neck is bruised."

"Is it? I guess I never recovered from the accident." She replied.

"What accident?" Curious, he asked.

"The one that took away Mom, and made my legs useless."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that…"

"It's ok, she wasn't a nice Mommy." Her eyes opened wider. "Jonathan?"

Jonathan watched as his vision of Becky faded and changed. No longer were they children, but both back to their adult bodies, clinging to one another. The fear toxin had worn off. Eyes still fixated on each other, Jonathan moved closer gently nudging his bulbous nose against her petite one.

"I… am…sorry." He wheezed out.

"So… am… I…" Tears fell from her eyes. "I... told… no one."

Jonathan closed his eyes, suddenly feeling like the world's worst human being, and realized he was a crazy genius-level criminal who had an unhealthy attachment to one of his students. It served him right that she'd probably never want to see him after this episode. '_Hell…_' He thought. '_She'll probably press charges, they'll find my lab and I'll go to jail for the rest of my life._' The sad thing was he couldn't figure out which depressed him more, the thought of no longer being able to advance his fear research or the fear that he'd never see the unique woman he currently held in his arms.

"Jonathan?"

"Yes?" He looked at her; they were both getting tired.

"I never wanted another man to control me…" Becky took a deep breath. "That's why I tried to blackmail you…" She took a deep breath. "…so you would stop blackmailing me, and then…" She started to doze off. "…th-then I could have a real… relationship… with…you."

Perplexed, Jonathan could only stare dumb-founded as Rebecca fell asleep in his arms, but he felt this was his only chance at the last light of happiness she could give him. Physically exhausted it took the rest of his strength to push his head forward a few inches, press his lips against hers. Pulling back, Jonathan tried to memorize her face as much as he could, till at last sleep claimed him.


	4. Silly Ends

…

_Tuesday, June 21, 1998_

…

"Did you remember to delete the hard-drive?"

"Yes."

"And all of the backup files?"

"Yes."

"And shred all the paper copies?"

"GOD, YES _woman_! I remembered!"

"Jonathan, I am going to become a professional lawyer. I can't make sure we have a worry free life if we don't make sure to get rid of all the evidence that can link us to your illegal activities." She sighed. "And what are you going to do with all these canisters of fear gas?"

"Becky, darling, once were married all you have to do is concentrate on your career, I have two good jobs and don't worry…" He gave her an evil smile. "I'll find a hobby."

…

_Saturday, January 31, 2015 – 17 years later._

…

"Happy Fifty-first Birthday Jonathan!" Called Becky from her position hovering over her husband. "Someone's excited to see you!" She watched as he blearily opened one eye to glare at her before a large ball of animated curly-auburn hair jumped on his stomach.

"HI, DADDY! Happy Birthday!" Yelled the little girl that crawled up onto her father chest.

"Hello Dorothy, what did Daddy say about jumping on his stomach?"

"That it gives you gas!" She giggled, not a drop of fear as she withstood his scariest glare. "Daddy, you're making the silly-face again!" Laughing she quickly rolled off the bed and made a bee-line for the door.

"Dorothy! Brush your teeth!" Becky hollered after her six year old daughter, hoping the girl would listen. "What a handful, ah anyway, I made you breakfast." Rebecca waited for her husband to sit up before setting the tray across his lap. "Just to warn you, Irving made the eggs."

"I see." Crane pushed the yellow goo with his fork. "He's getting better… no shells this time."

"Yep, just a little undercooked." Becky lay down next to him. "Dorothy made the toast."

"Hmm, once again my daughter gets all of your good traits." He smiled biting into the golden toast. "Smart, beautiful, and a great cook."

"Yes, well…" Becky blushed and cleared her throat. "Just make sure to tell your son he did well, I don't want to discourage him."

"I shall remember to do so, my wife." Pushing the food away he grabbed her and guided her face to his. "You were…brave, to stay with me. I could have killed you that day in your apartment."

"I know you could have, but you didn't and I was partly to blame, so I gave us a chance and just look at what came from that choice?" She gave him a warm smile. "Two monsters!" They both laughed.

"True, but Rebecca, I'm also very, very lucky to have you." He said, bringing his lips to hers, kissing her with passion, and savoring the fact that she returned his affections.

"Gross."

Jonathan and Becky both looked up to see their ten year old son Irving leaning against the door frame. Jon felt a series of gooseflesh rise on his arms; his son had been the spitting image of himself, with the exception of his mother's hazel eyes. Irving also gained his ability to sneak up on people without them noticing, the infamous Scarecrow included.

"Hmm, I suppose it is gross coming from your point of view." Crane kissed Becky once more. "But I like it and that's all that matters. Oh, by the way, the eggs were OK."

"Yeah, Mom says I probably needed to cook them longer…" Irving hid behind his long black hair, an annoying trait he exhibited when embarrassed. "I'll try harder next time."

"Irving, don't worry about it, sweetie." Becky beckoned him to sit on the bed. "You'll get better at it."

"Yep, you're just like me when I first started created my phobia hormones-"

"Honey, you know the rules of the house…"

"But Mom! I want to know what Dad does at his job." He pouted at his mother. "Besides, career day is coming up and he said he'll come."

"Oh really." Becky sent a chilly glare in her husband's direction. "Irving, can you go make sure Dorothy's brushing her teeth, I need to have a talk with your father."

"Sorry Dad." Irving mouthed as he quickly ran out of the bedroom.

"Jonathan?"

"There is no need to worry, my love." He picked up his breakfast and began eating. "I have everything covered."

"Jonathan you work for a pharmaceuticals company that produces male-stimulants, how can you discuss that at an elementary school?"

"Simple, I lie." He took a bite of bacon. "We've lied to them about my _other_ career."

"Jon, we have to, I mean what do you think Irving's third grade teacher will say if he finds out you're _thee Scarecrow_?" She shook her head. "A Super-Villain who fights a man in a Bat-suit with yellow gas!"

"I don't see why you disapprove. It pays well, and anything goes." He laughed.

"I'm just worried that one of these days you'll get hurt!"

"Becky, don't worry, it's all fake anyway." He gave her a reassuring wink and went back to eating his breakfast.

"Fine, but Jonathan, pro-wrestling is not something I want the kids getting into."

…

End


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